Spirits
by CrazyBJDLady
Summary: Didn't think I'd ever submit something, didja? Well, here goes. Don't let the Eugolorp fool you. He's worse than Snipes or Zugors. (None of this has to do with the plot)
1. Prologue(Not Necessary)

(This is not necessary to read, it's not in the same style as the rest of the story or anything, it's just a fun way to pinpoint where the two worlds are in their respective timelines. If you'd rather try and figure that out for yourself feel free to skip this page.

I will, however, advise ahead of time that this is my very first time writing with characters that are not my own and I appreciate any feedback in attempt to help me improve my writing. This means constructive criticism, please, be nice.)

Prologue - DP

From an outsider's perspective, the situation may have been just a little bizarre(or a lot, let's go with a lot bizzare), even if the thoughts that came with it weren't.

It only takes one whacked out nutjob-no-sorry, fruitloop- It only takes one whacked out frootloop trying to take over a world to throw a whole day down the drain. Or a whole town into another dimension. Whichever makes less sense. Between magic rings and swords and ghosts and half-ghosts and their hunters, and poorly(or greatly) punned witty banter, the situation didn't have much sense to start with, so why add to it?

Short story longer than it was: the small, somewhat ghost infested town of Amity Park had found itself dragged into a strange, otherworldly dimension called the Ghost-Zone, all thanks to some fruitloop who decided it was a good idea to unleash an ancient undead tyrant in the hopes of stealing a magic ring. And why does a fourteen year-old half-ghost have to fix the mess of a deranged middle-aged cheese-head in desperate need of a cat? Because the situation was just a little(a lot) bizarre. For an outsider's perspective.

For said residents of Amity Park, fourteen year old, and cheese-headed forty-year old fruitloop, it was just another on top of what appeared to be a long string of bad days(even if it did seem to be a little more bad than most. But only a little. So far.) Hopefully it wasn't about to get a whole lot worse. (We should know better than to say that!)

Right, that was the situation(it was bizarre). Now for the thoughts(now it gets serious).

Prologue - RotG

From even an insider's perspective, the situation was just a little bizarre, the thoughts that went with it even more so. I mean, cities(and their respective lights) don't just randomly phase off of a magical globe!

So Jolly Ole Saint Nick and the Big Glowing Guy in the Sky are worried that the absence of Mr Terrifies Children From Under Their Bed will make an even bigger darkness appear. I just happen to show up while they're chatting(not that I ever get to take part) and the city on the map just happens to magically disappear, taking all of its(and it had a lot for a little city) Lights with it.

Since I'm there(nevermind they're the ones worried about it) they decide to send me off for some "reconnaissance" while Mr Jolly and his Yeti's(I have nothing against Phil) call up the rest of the Guardians to plan for another attack. Guess where this is probably going to go?

So those are the thoughts(Lucky me, where's the Leprechaun in all this?). Now for the Situation(We're going to need all the Luck we can get).

**AN(the first one from when I was hyped up on caffeine):**

Okay, I got my idea for NaNoWriMo, but I'm not allowed to start writing it, and then this popped into my head on the way to work today and Resistance. Was. Futile.

I will say, this is my first time writing with characters that are not my own, but, as I also said, the plot bunnies attacked me on the way to work today and my break time was spent taking notes and trying to figure out how things would interplay and whatnot. This is the result… I have the first three chapters plotted out already and am figuring out how I want to continue from there. I tend to write mass amounts at once, and I'm not sure whether I want to upload multiple chapters at a time or try and get far enough ahead of schedule as to post chapters on a regular(probably biweekly) basis. Mostly depends on the reception to the first chapter(which this is not)… Even if I don't get a single review I will probably continue to write it, it just wont end up being posted. So if you want to know how this continues, please tell me so!

Also, this beginning, I had it so well written, and then I realized the voice it was written in was more fruit-loopy and less moody teenager, so I had to re-write it. And I lost all of my clever nuances. It was sad. And then I realized I used the word 'nuances'. Please help. Send cat(s). Or doll(s). (Preferably dolls)


	2. A Little Fervor

Ch. 1

It wasn't the steady increasing of mechanical beats, or the steady decreasing of an already exceptionally low percentage bar that had the brunt of the young Phantom's attention, no matter how many times his eyes flickered down to check the screen. It wasn't the ghostly king whose sarcophagus was rocketing back and forth, sending flashes and flares of light and energy in every direction; nor was it the trembling and cracked earth that threatened to shake free the footing of the heavy(and getting heavier) Ecto-Skeleton he was currently using to hold his own against everything that had been thrown at him in the past ten or so minutes.

His family ended up filling his vision, his focus. Each of the little things that endeared them to him seemed to try to snag his attention all at once. Making his world that much smaller and bigger at the same time, his surroundings blurring away, becoming less than important when faced with those things he considered most important of all.

He almost thought it odd, but then he realized he might be dying, so it might not be so odd after all. If he could actually die, that is. Sometimes that was the last thing anyone tried to worry about. The deeper worries tended to lead one(or him, at least) on the train of thoughts that in order to fully die, he had to be fully alive; which, when one thinks about a human being half _ghost,_ isn't exactly the first conclusion to come to.

So, he might be dying, and it might be futile, since the percentage bar(what did it read now? 5%?) was still dropping lower and the guy he was holding captive inside a giant sarcophagus was only fighting harder, and he really wasn't sure what would happen if he didn't figure out a way to seal the thing from opening as soon as he passed out.

Maybe it wasn't so odd to think about them now.

His mother's sweet voice and deadly grace, genius enough to build her own high-tech weaponry even if everything she cooked tended to come under demonic possession of a sort(he wondered if those monster hotdogs ever escaped the bottom drawer of the fridge, maybe they were amassing their own forces to try and take over the world if Pariah Dark failed to escape). The thought would have made him laugh if he had the energy. (4%)

His father's clumsy gait and even clumsier charm. Even with all of the mistakes he wouldn't admit to making(maybe he didn't think of them as mistakes) and all of the rants about ghosts and fudge, he'd made sure to include his family in everything in he did. The fact he was willing to endure the Ecto-Skeleton again after how it drained him the first time, if only to save them, spoke volumes about the character most people didn't care to see. The Phantom wondered what that said about himself. Not that it would really matter soon. (3%)

His sister's obsession with putting an end to their parents' obsession, if only to try and make sure they were as psychologically sound(happy) as possible. It only took a few glimpses into the more chaotic parts of their lives to make her appreciate that the way they functioned worked as well as could be during the calm(boring) times, considering how flawed(excitable?) they all were. But then, who wasn't? (2%)

His best friend's love for all things geek or nerd, even if it did interfere with his position on the social(dateable) ladder. He didn't really seem to mind as much as he complained that he did, the things that made him truly happy were the things he learned to hold close, like his tech and his meat, and his friends. It turns out there was a certain pride that came with being a nerd. (1 %)

Sam. Who knew who she was and wasn't afraid to say it. Wasn't afraid to say anything, for all the times it got her into trouble(she could handle it) and back out again(like he said, she could handle it). He really wished he knew what she wanted to say to him before he left. Before he- (0%)

Somewhere in his mind it clicked that all of this would probably sound really cliché and sappy if he were to read it on paper, but he was past the point of caring.

He was dimly aware of a darkly gloved hand sliding in front of his face to turn a key in a lock(why was there a lock? What was he leaning against again?), his faint, wry thoughts gathering enough to grumble about the very last face he'd probably get to see before his vision faded to black and all sound stopped.

Stupid Vlad. _Stupid Fruitloop.  
><em>

_**DP**_

Dark shoes tapped a steady staccato rhythm on the tiled floor, or at least they would have if said shoes had not been floating two feet above the sickly red tile. Instead there was a pale glow that brushed the floor, tinting its bloody red a more than gruesome green, the wooden walls stretching high above the ancient hall reflecting the color almost more so. Dark castles floating in gloomy ghostly zones tended to have that effect. The figure gliding through the halls almost acted as if he belonged there, his bearing proud and cruel, from the vampiric fangs that glinted in his smile to the garish red holes that were his eyes, right down to the white cloak that fluttered with no wind, contrasting the coal black hair that arched back as if forming pointed horns.

His grin widened as a varied assortment of ghosts and minions slowly began to gather behind him, an impressive force if he did say so himself.

The walls trembled and cracked, and the group paused as one, taking in for the first time the sounds of carnage raking their way through the doorway of the room ahead. A long, drawn out yell of denial signaled what was hopefully the end of the battle; all that was needed now was a finishing touch or two. Like a key in a lock, and then maybe some gloating.

There really was nothing to close a prosperous day like a good gloat. It needn't be long, or monologue-esque, just so long as it had sharp enough wit to make a point. And villainous, dastardly, desperately-in-need-of-a-cat(though he would never admit it), and half-ghost billionaire Vlad Plasmius knew exactly what that gloat would be.

Or he would as soon as he could figure out how he wanted to phrase it. He snapped his fingers, resting one darkly gloved hand on his bearded chin and the other on his equally dark belt, looking every bit the evil ponderer despite the white attire that stretched between the points of black. In hindsight, the contrast was fairly fitting. He merely resembled the side of the board that always struck first.

'It was Chess, really. Using two fourteen year old pawns to turn a Knight and topple a King. If your chess skills are as pitiful as your math-' But no, he'd already insulted the boy's grades many times, and chess really was so much more challenging than math, it wasn't fair to degrade it by comparing the two. Especially with Daniel's grades. Oops, apparently he really couldn't avoid taking a jab at the poor boy's grades, even in his own head.

Anyways, it needed to be worded a little more eloquently than that. Ah, well, he could figure that out later, it wasn't like he had to try too hard to outwit his foe. Foe was giving him too much credit. What had he called the teen before? Pawn, to outwit his pawn.

Oh, enough dallying! The group strode forward again, following the newly muted sounds of chaos to the next scene.

Plasmius smirked as he took his time to enjoy the sight. The giant crevices along the floor, the massive coffin standing bolt upright in the center of the room, and the smaller form that barely covered the door. The battle suit barely looked any worse for wear, despite the inverted color scheme of black and white and green that reflected the strained countenance of the boy inside. He could hardly see the boy's black jumpsuit through the glass opening at the top, though it hardly mattered, the shock of snow white hair and the fading glow of bright green eyes was enough to assure him of the identity of the figure within the somewhat-aptly named Ecto-Skeleton. Of course the bright white, stylized DP plastered over the chestpiece helped, too.

The size of the battlesuit would dwarf a regular sized man, none-the-less the scrap of scrawny teenager currently integrated with the technology, and even that was dwarfed by the size of the coffin it was determinedly shoved against. It only made the suit seem a more impressive piece of machinery than it already was. And Plasmius was certain to make it _his_ new impressive piece of technology.

He bid his time in floating up to the lock on the sarcophagus, watching the young Phantom within the suit grow ever paler, waiting until he had finally organized his clever little taunt into the right order. Satisfied he had decided on the wording he closed his eyes before lifting the key and sealing the coffin with a 'click'. Schooling his face into a proper sneer, he glanced down in time to see the younger Halfling's eyes slip closed.

"Oh, butterbisquets," he muttered, "All that thought for proper witty banter and you go and faint on me."

His eyes narrowed in a glare for a moment before he blinked. Something was off about the scene before him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. It took him a few seconds before he shrugged and reached down to retrieve the suit(and the unfortunate boy inside).

Only when his hand was just close enough to touch the suit did he realize what was wrong, looking between his hand and the young Phantom currently slumped over the controls inside. His whole frame, small and angular though it was, was loosely draped across the inside of the machine, not a finger twitching, not an eyelid stirring, he was languid as any cat draped across the back of a couch(the imagery did not please the elder Halfling). But ghosts are naturally still, he thought, not having to draw breath or beat a heart. The problem was that the boy wasn't glowing.

He repeated that thought. The boy wasn't glowing. A ghost didn't stop glowing just because he had passed unconscious, including the half-ghost child(he should know, having been the cause a few times before). He hadn't reverted to his human form. And he wasn't glowing.

His fiery eyes blinked again, slowly, as he took a moment to process this before the inevitable horror could set in. He hadn't meant to permanently hurt the boy, had he taken too long in organizing his witty banter? Surely not for that few amount of seconds had he miscalculated? For that small of a reason?

Sucking in a panicked gasp, Vlad Plasmius jolted forward, intent on grabbing the suit to check the vital statistics of the small inhabitant, his mind flying faster than his hands. Which was a small pity to him, he thought later(maybe if his hands had moved as fast as his mind instead of the other way around many things that night would have been avoided ), as his hands closed on empty air, the unexpected free space causing him to tumble forward until he hit the floor. He hadn't bothered to catch himself, too stunned at both the revelation that had caused him to act, and the disappearance of the cause of that revelation. So instead he sat where he fell, his mouth hanging open as he gazed at the space that had previously been occupied by a giant Ecto-Skeleton containing a very small, very not quite, ironically, alive looking half-ghost child.

"Um," he heard someone ask behind him, dreading the question that he knew always followed such surprising circumstances, "What just happened?"

_**DP**_

"How could you?!" A being yelled, the cry reverberating around the giant tower it hovered in, temporarily drowning out the constant ticking and tocking that droned in the background.

"I do not think it is up to you to berate me in such a decision," came the calm reply, a young voice that seemed to grow older as the sentence continued, "If I recall correctly, an alternate version of this type of conversation ended similarly in your disfavor."

The other voice was silent for a moment before continuing in a gruff manor, "You had better know what you are doing this time around as well."

"Do not worry, all is as it should be," the calm voice continued, rumbling into an even older pitch before suddenly reversing and continuing down the scale.

"I hope you are right," the harried voice grumbled, "For all our sakes."

****AN:**

Just for future reference, I hate that I like to write in Vlad's voice… And I hope the last section(curse you, autocorrect) wasn't too bleck, but I didn't feel like going back to watch that episode to see if I toned it right…

Anyways, there was going to be another section of this chapter, but at the end of the second it was already at 2,000 words so I decided to split it in two. Hopefully this isn't too boring of an intro. Jack Frost was supposed to appear in the next chapter, but I dunno if he still will depending on how long the next section ends up being.

Also, as a newbie in posting here, I can't seem to get it to accept my pagebreaks, apologies in advance...


	3. Discontent

_I should probably state that I have not read The Guardians books, so anything pertaining to them will based on the movie and my own conclusions therein~  
>Also, I guess this is supposed to have a disclaimer… So, yeah, I own neither Danny Phantom nor Rise of the Guardians, although I sorely wish I owned a Danny(Phantom or Fenton) or Jack Frost plushie(or both, preferably both). Maybe I should get on finding the peddle for my sewing machine…<em>

Ch. 2

**_Phantom._**

Something was there, he knew it…

_**Nny Phantom.**_

Something was there; he just couldn't bring himself to care…

_**Danny Phantom.**_

Hey, that rhymed… Was he supposed to be angry that that rhymed?

_**DANNY PHANTOM.**_

"Agh! What?! I'm awake!" he yelled, bolting upright before slowly curling forward and clutching his head in his hands, drawing his knees up until he was as small as he could make himself, "Ugh… I'm awake…" He was grateful for the fact it was nighttime, the pale light of the moon and stars much preferable to gain his bearings with than the harsh and painful glare of a mid-afternoon sun.

Soft grass and earth were underfoot, shimmering in the starlight before melding with the rough bark of tree roots and shrubs dotting the edges of his vision. So he was in a forest? How did he get here? Where was he before here?

Winding his fingers in his hair, he felt fabric rub against his palms and into his grip; it took him a moment to realize he was wearing gloves. It took him another moment longer to come to the conclusion that this was odd, although he couldn't fathom why.

He dropped one hand down to his lap, the motion sluggish and fast at the same time, as if gravity had done all the work. Which it probably had. He shoved that thought aside in favor of inspecting his (for some reason)odd wardrobe, wiggling his fingers inside the pale white(almost silver) gloves and bringing them up to the familiar symbol on his chest, his stylized initials blazed white across a field of black that stretched from the silverish collar at his shoulder to the silverish white gloves at his fore arms, to the similarly silver belt at his waist. Matching black pants with equally matching silver boots.

Okay, so he was in his Phantom outfit, nothing strange about that.

Until he realized that he had _woken from sleep_ in said outfit, his eyes, glowing softly at the moment(just like everything else, just like it was supposed to), widened in surprise. Shouldn't he have turned into his human half if he was asleep? That's what always happened before… The hand still in his hair flicked a lock in front of his face, verifying that yes, it was currently unnaturally white and his eyes were probably that toxically luminescent green. His brain tried to switch gears to how he had been sleeping in the first place before remembering that someone(something?) had actually woken him up. The _here_ and _now_ should probably be figured out before the… Well, the _before_ and _then_.

Someone(thing) had called his name.

He flinched and peeked upwards, searching for the, probably by now impatient(he hadn't been blasted yet?), someone who had called his name. No strange or enigmatic being loomed over him, no suspicious shadows or eyes leering from said shadows… No nothing. His brows furrowed in confusion; he was sure that someone had called for him…

Not knowing what else to do, not that _that_ part of this situation was any different from normal, he eased himself up into a crouch before slowly unfolding into a standing position. It would have been easier to float to his feet, but, his mind being in the muddled state it was, he didn't think of it. But his ghost sense wasn't going off, he didn't feel any menacing stares or glares in his direction, and he still hadn't figured out how he got… Wherever it is he was.

Instead he heaved a breathy sigh, relaxing enough to let his head tilt back, bringing his gaze level with the moon above. The soft light greeted his eyes with the calm presence only something of its size and luminescence could provide.

"I don't suppose there are any answers up there…" he trailed off, his name entering his head again in what could have been a thought other than his own. But that was a little too ridiculous(would that be possible, considering his life?), the Moon talking to him.

_Danny Phantom._

He got the distinct impression of his name, but it was almost so much more than that. It was his Name. Something that grounded his currently flighty thoughts, coalescing into one steely purpose that was, well, himself. The phrase _'The Moon told me so'_ entered his head, and he had the distinct impression that something(one) was trying to communicate with him but he had no idea how to respond, or if it was even communicating right.

Danny shook his head, bringing one hand up to grip the back of his neck while the other flailed listlessly in the air, "Look, I don't know who you are or what you want from me, but I was just in the middle of…"

What was he in the middle of?

His feet finally left the ground as he floated toward the tree line, green irises glancing left and right before drifting above the mess of leaves to see where he had ended up.

A familiar fountain lay in a clearing not too far in front of him, and a small city spread out beyond it, its welcoming glow bringing a small smile to his lips. It was always a nice feeling, seeing the town devoid of any billowing debris or ghostly possessed items milling about, no matter how short that amount of time might last. He flinched and looked around warily; usually that kind of thinking drew trouble like a neon sign pointing in his direction.

Then it hit him.

"The town! It's back!" he widened his smile with glee and threw a fist into the air, "Pariah Dark must've-agh!" His flight ended abruptly as the memories of the _before_ and _then_ he had been thinking of figuring out earlier found their way to him and shocked him into a crash landing.

"Ow…" he winced, once again heaving himself into a sitting position, this time while pulling twigs from his hair and brushing a leaf or two off his shoulder. The last thing he remembered was holding the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep shut and watching the stats bar drop to zero percent, then a key turning in a lock, then… Nothing. How did he get back from the Ghost Zone? Wait-0%?! Was he dead? In a panic he checked himself over again, noting that other than his sore muscles and a slight headache he seemed to be in tact; which, he belatedly realized, didn't mean much in the form that was as close to dead as a human could probably get without actually being dead.

Clenching his fists and closing his eyes he muttered a quick, "Hope this works" before accessing the switch for his powers, imagining the glowing rings making their way up and down his form and reverting him to his human, hopefully still alive, self.

Danny stood for a moment, thinking that he felt the change take over like normal, but afraid to look lest it prove to be his own wishful thinking. Slowly, he opened one eye and then the other, looking down at first his bare fingers, and then while running them through his now black hair, his usual attire of jeans, red shoes, and white shirt with red trimming. He was tempted to leap and shout his victory again when a shadow made its way overhead.

So, instead, he dove for cover, ignoring his aching limbs and once more tangling leaves and other assorted tree things in his hair. After a long few moments of staying as still as possible and peering out into the night he let himself relax. He had a lot to figure out, and it would probably be best if he found his family(how long had he been gone?) and tried to piece things together from what happened on their end. It was only after he had exited the bush, getting still more brambles attached to not only his hair but now also his shirt, and had begun brushing himself off again that a gasp followed a silver-white mist that escaped his mouth and a voice called out behind him.

"Hello."

_**DP**_

Bare feet alighted on a chimney top, pausing barely enough for the crumbled brick to attempt to transfer the chill the night had brought to its surface(not that these particular toes would be able to feel it) before launching into the air again, a crisp breeze tugging the being who owned said feet to the next roof along its path. A worn grey sweater fluttered around the figure's form, the wind doing very little to displace the tendrils of frost that decorated the length of garment. Similarly semi-frozen tan breeches covered the being's legs, which were just as unaffected by the impatient tapping of a long crook of a stick held loosely in the figure's hands, unease present in every line of his posture.

Jack Frost stalled in his flight; he had reached the last building in town before the scenery abruptly changed to a thick(and currently very dark) looking forest.

He peeked over his shoulder and took note of how few lights glistened in the windows of the buildings behind him. It was the time of night that most sane people were tucked away, having been visited hours ago already by dreams made in golden sand, the time of night that was usually dubbed 'the witching hour' even though most people weren't awake to see what kind of things any witches might be doing.

A hand ruffled through his snowy white hair, icy blue eyes flickering from the town behind him to the moon above, and he gave the glowing source of his ire a sigh, "I don't suppose you could tell me what I'm looking for, huh?"

Receiving nothing but silence in response(as usual), Jack thought back to the slew of events(one event, really) that led him to this moment.

_ "What are you meaning 'it could be worse than Pitch'?!" a thickly accented voice ahead of him echoed through the halls, "It took all Guardians, plus a new one, to defeat Pitch! How could this be leading to something worse?!"_

_ There was a pause, as if a response to the question was being offered, and Jack took the opportunity to creep forward, ignoring the tiny red-clad elves that gave him suspicious glances and glares as he went. He waved a half-hearted 'hi' to Phil(who responded with a glare not too much darker than the elves) before he ducked from that hallway to another. Nicholas St. North's personal workshop was only two doorways down, the rhythmic sounds of Christmas Ballet and the chinking of ice absent from the air in lieu of the seemingly one-sided conversation taking place._

_ "Hmm, the balance is on our side now, this should be good thing," the voice came again, and Jack froze. Was North whining? This was probably bad news. The Winter Spirit debated whether or not he should continue sneaking towards the door, crystal eyes narrowing at the sight of movement on the other side of the gap where the latch had not properly closed._

_ He had just decided that maybe he should come back to try stealing the sled for a short joy ride another day when the door whipped open and the giant on the other side peered down at him with squinted blue eyes._

_ "Jack!" the fur-adorned giant shouted when he recognized the boy crouching in his doorway, "Is good you are here! You will help me argue with Man in Moon that danger is not coming on its way! We are finally rid of Pitch and there are no danger feelings in my Belly!"_

_ "Um, what?" was all Jack could managed before a tattooed arm snagged him by the shoulder and dragged him into the room, the door behind them finally latching closed from the force of North's movement._

_ "Man in Moon," North explained, arching one bushy eyebrow while stroking the cascading river of white beard under his chin with a beefy hand, "He says that balance has been disrupted, with no Pitch there is absence of needed shadows to light and something else will take his place. Something worse."_

_ Jack made no attempt to disguise his confusion as he repeated, "Um, what?" He blinked twice and shook his head before continuing, "You're not making any sense, did Pitch have friends?"_

_ "Hnhm, Pitch, friends?" a rumbling laughter shook the master of Christmas, "Allies maybe, no friends. I don't think allies, either…" He paused to frown, "No, Manny says simply because we defeat Pitch that other darkness will come. Without Fear in darkness, there is too much light, in order to keep balance, Manny say there will be another darkness. A bigger darkness to match all that we Guardians have made for light."_

_ "Oh. So what are we supposed to do about it?" Anxiety tried to wriggle its way into his chest as thoughts of the battle with the Spirit of Fear flickered through his head. It wasn't something he really wanted to repeat._

_ North stared at him before responding, "Do? We do nothing! Last time Pitch was defeated we had many years of peace before he came back! Of course, last time he wasn't attacked by his own creations… And there were only four of us to defeat him…" His usually merry eyes twinkled with uncertainty, "Actually, maybe Manny has point…"_

_ Jack was content to stare blankly at the man who drifted into lost thoughts while simultaneously remaining towered over him, and had maybe done so for quite a few minutes until a disgruntled Yeti crashed into the door._

_ "What is it now?" North cried, lifting his hands in exasperation while turning to the Yeti. The harried response had Saint Nicholas's eyebrows shoot to the top of his forehead before plummeting to shadow his eyes, "Show me." With that the giant took off down the hallway, the smaller Winter Spirit sprinting to catch up with him as they headed in a very familiar direction._

_ The Globe room was the same as it had been last time Jack was there, save for the small cluster of Yetis crowding the area in front of the Midwestern United States. Many furry fingers were pointing to a spot somewhere in Illinois, though what they were pointing at was a mystery to Jack, there weren't even any lights in that area. His bare feet skipped along the railing as he fought to get a closer look, dropping his crooked staff to the wood in front of him in an attempt to startle a few of the oversized furrballs out of his way. North had no such problems when it came to parting his workers, easily muscling up to the globe and glaring at the very spot they had been panicking over._

_ A breath was sucked in as the Christmas Spirit stiffened, "No… How?"_

_ "How what?" Jack asked, failing to see the importance of an empty spot on the map._

_ Nicholas St. North didn't bother replying as he ran to the lever that would summon the other Guardians, the radiance of the Aurora Borealis filling the sky above them._

_ Jack leapt from the railing and dashed after him, still confused, but now beginning to worry, "What's going on?"_

_ "That bad feeling I did not have in my Belly? Moony was right. It is there now," North finally said, gesturing needlessly to the globe. Two pairs of bright blue eyes stared at the globe before one pair drifted back to stare at the larger figure. North's eyes eventually dragged themselves from the globe to meet Jack's and he sighed, "I explain when everyone is here, come."_

_ About five minutes later, which was as soon as twenty minutes later to an impatient Jack, the room beheld the jolly Christmas Spirit, an emerald feathered figure flitting back and forth in front of the globe, a small golden man with exclamation symbols of sand floating above his head, a half-frozen grey kangaroo-rabbit thawing his massive hind paws out over the fire, and Jack himself._

_ "So what is it this time, North?" the feathered Toothiana asked, a nervous trill to her voice as she twisted her fingers together. As busy as the ToothFairy was on a daily basis, she had determined that this would have her undivided attention, though her eyes kept flicking to the small cluster of tiny helpers hovering at the edge of the room, awaiting any emergency orders._

_"Yeah," The kanga-Bunnymund continued, his Australian accent shivering slightly due more to the chilly temperature than nerves, "We jus' did all this, wat, 'alf a year ago?" His reluctance to deal with the cold not withstanding, his mood had only continued to roll downhill as his mind went over all of the reasons(most of them had occurred fairly recently) they could have been summoned like this._

_ Poor Sandy didn't even get a symbol in edgewise before Nicholas St. North stopped any further questions or dusty exclamations with a lift of his hand, using the other to wave at the Globe, "A town has disappeared."_

_ There was a collective gasp from the Guardians, though two of those were more of confusion than shock._

_ "How can a town jus' bloomin' disappear?" the Easter Bunny was the first to interject, "All the lights went out at once?" Toothiana's expression dropped even further at his words, the wringing of her hands prompting her little helpers to come and calm her by sticking close._

_A flurry of symbols had flittered above the Sandman's head too fast for any eye to follow, not that anyone was really paying attention to him, other than a few of the elves who were always fascinated to watch the flying grains at work. The two elves that were watching now clapped at the speed with which the sand had formed, entirely clueless to what was happening above their heads._

"_No," North said, placing a finger on the same blank space somewhere in Illinois, "The entire town itself, it is off the map." The rest of the Guardians crowded around his hand, still confused, some wondering if it were even possible to tell on a map that simply showed clusters of lights, before the Tooth Fairy reached out her hand to caress the spot on the Globe. She blinked, then rubbed her fingers into a small crater that dipped into the metal._

"_It's, it's actually gone, the ground and everything?" she asked in confusion, a frown trickling at the corners of her mouth, "How is that possible?"_

"_I do not know. Man in Moon was warning that something bad would come when Yeti's came to get me, but he would not say what it was," the Christmas Spirit shook his head, running a hand through his hair and walking to gather his swords and coat from the wall, "That is what we get to find out."_

"_So… Where is it we're supposed ta be going ta find?" Bunnymund asked, checking over his boomerangs while the other clipped his sabers to his belt._

_Jack had leaned against his staff, for all of his impatience staying quiet and perched on the railing while the more experienced Guardians took the floor. He glided over to the others now that they were actually beginning to move out, his eyes on the Globe while his ears were listening for North's response._

"_A town called Amity Park."_

This was how Jack had found himself here, a sleigh ride and a forest away from the town that had presumably disappeared completely off the map. They had split up to approach Amity Park from all sides, just in case it was a trap, and he now held his staff at the ready, though he had yet to enter the woodland that separated him from his destination.

Taking a deep breath, he jumped from the roof and into the air, feeling gravity reach for him for the briefest of seconds before the Wind snatched him forward and into the trees. He didn't want to fly above the trees for fear of an obvious attack, but he didn't want to travel underneath the foliage for the same reason. So instead he leapt from tree top to tree top, staying as close to within their shadowy embrace as possible without losing sight of the land ahead of him.

It wasn't long before the town came into view, a water fountain directly in front of him and the silhouette of a strange building that looked like it had a mini stadium with extra pipes and ducts connecting it to the brick townhome below shining in the distance. So much for the town having vanished, Jack frowned. Still, it didn't hurt to check it out and make sure everyone was okay; North and the rest of the Guardians would be looking as well, hopefully.

A flash of light to his left brought his flight to a halt, his first reaction to dive into the trees to avoid an attack. When none came, he slowly lifted himself above the leaves again, before darting in the direction he had seen the light originate.

He paused when he found a small clearing, thinking this would probably have been the best place for the light to make it to the sky out of the tries, assuming whatever made it couldn't fly. Doubling back, he waited a few minutes, both to see if whatever had made the light was there and had stuck around, and to get his bearings on how close the town was. So far there didn't seem to be anything amiss. No screams of panic, no giant holes in the ground, nothing was even minorly destroyed that he could see so far. Although it did seem like there was a group of people or two calling something across the town. Jack couldn't really hear what they were saying, but it almost seemed like they were searching for something; maybe it was a name?

Finally, he gave up, attesting his delay to nerves and moving at the same time a shadow in the bush in front of him decided to crawl out from its hiding place. Jack froze, watching as a boy around his height and build stood up and began plucking leaves off of his shirt and out of his hair. It didn't look like the kid was dangerous, or some kind of trap. In fact, there seemed to be nothing significant about the kid at all; Jack was pretty sure if he took his eyes off of him now he'd forget he had even seen the boy.

Something about that didn't seem right to Jack, but he couldn't pinpoint why. He stood up and dropped out of his own hiding place, stepping up behind the boy without taking his eyes off of him. It was probably a fifty-fifty chance the kid would be able to see and hear him, Jack decided, the kid looked about the age he had been when he died, so he couldn't have been too much older than kids who stopped believing, right?

He took a deep breath and strode the last few feet to approach the kid, tilting his head in curiosity of whether this would work as he called out a forcibly nonchalant, "Hello."

The boy in front of him whipped around, meeting his greeting with a briefly wild and then decidedly suspicious stare. The red and white T-shirt was probably a little worse for wear, and the jeans looked like they were scuffed from kneeling in the bushes, but overall the kid didn't seem injured. Maybe a little misplaced considering what time it was, but Jack couldn't really comment on that himself.

He was slightly surprised when the boy finally stood up straight, giving up on making either his hair or his shirt look presentable, and met his eyes to say(not quite as nonchalantly, but the effort was there), "Hello."

Jack was about to ask what the kid was doing when the gleam of the Moon stole his attention, breaking his resolve to continue looking at the strange boy long enough for his earlier worry to come true. Without his eyes on the kid his brain started to slide into another thought, wondering what he had stopped for.

"Sorry, I have to go," he mumbled, failing to notice the kid's frown and the opening of his mouth. Without waiting for a response, he called to the wind and was in the air, his feet carrying him once more towards the town that had (maybe)disappeared. He didn't stop to think how curious it was he couldn't remember the color of the kid's hair or eyes, or even the features of his face or outfit. In a few moments more he had forgotten about the kid completely.

It didn't matter, he was at the edge of the buildings now, and he could hear the name that was being called across the town.

****AN:**

Gah, that conversation between Jack and North still seems weird to me and I rewrote it three different times… Am I missing something there or is it just me? Anyways, the first chapter did rake in one review and a few follows, so I guess I'll keep posting chapters as I write them(you'll probably see an update on either Wednesdays or Sundays, since those are my days off). And for some reason my chapters keep getting longer, so the things I mean to put in them keep getting expanded to further down the road. Expect this to be a somewhat slow paced fic, I guess?

To my one reviewer – Thank you so much for commenting! Actually, there's nothing especially planned with the Ecto-Skeleton… But hopefully this chapter satisfied a few things and prompted more curiosity to make up for it, and I wont spoil anything yet, so you'll find out what happened to it eventually XD


	4. Fleeting Desolation

_This wasn't supposed to be completed until Saturday night, but a strenuous work night was best forgotten about amidst the complexities that I am trying to forge within this plot…_

_Also, if my roommate has found this she should leave a cryptic review under the name of her first BJD(include the season her sculpt stands for) letting me know that she has and if she hasn't… I am somewhat disappointed; I had hoped to get feedback and maybe an in-house proofreader…_

**Ch. 3**

As soon as he had turned to face the ghost(maybe, wasn't his ghost sense usually blue?) Danny had to resist the urge to do a double-take. For one, there was no hazmat(he doesn't think he's actually ever met another ghost in hazmat(Did they have a problem with jumpsuits?)); for two, the eyes that reflected the moonlight under an eerily similar(if shorter) mane of white hair were a piercing blue. Other than those two glaring differences he would have almost thought he was looking at his ghost self. Almost.

Letting his startled expression fade, he started picking out other minute differences; the shape of the jaw was more square, the slant of the nose straighter, the arch of the brows higher. Okay, maybe they didn't look all that similar. His hands had idly started plucking the leaves off of his shirt again, and he stopped by running them quickly through his own dark locks before deciding that there was no way he was going to get all of the bramble off without either a mirror, or turning intangible. Given his present company that second option was going to have to wait. The first had barely been considered.

Danny took a quick breath and squared his shoulders, trying to look as intimidating as possible(for his human form) before offering the ghost(?) still standing in front of himself a (hopefully) confident, "Hello."

He saw the blue-eyed boy's brows come together in a questioning manner before his focus shifted to the moon high above them. The glow almost snatched at Danny's attention as well, but he was much more curious about the slight figure staring up at the moon than he was of the moon itself. Some of the aspiring astronaut in Danny thought that was unfair(just a little). But the attention, and the reprimand, was short lived.

"Sorry, I have to go," was the only thing the icy boy muttered before taking off into the night, leaving Danny with his own mouth hanging open in surprise. The frown that had been forming had not quite left his lips, and at this turn of events it turned into a scowl. What was that ghost's(what else could fly like that?) deal? They hadn't even exchanged names! Not that he had expected the new ghost to know who he was already, but still…

It wasn't his fault that his current state of dress just wasn't considered remarkable(bramble be darned). He used this moment of frustration to turn intangible and finally rid himself of all offending leaves and sticks, thinking to at least look presentable to any mysterious spirits he might meet in the future.

It occurred to Danny that maybe he should have tried to fly after the strange specter. He quickly shrugged the idea off in favor of getting into town; enough havoc had occurred tonight, it was about time he figured out what had happened while he was… Away.(he refused to think further on what he might have actually been during that time)

Another flash of glowing rings and he was flying towards the city, the familiar(if odd) clunky outline of his home gleaming brightly amidst the darkened sky. He stopped to hover for a moment over his house, realizing that the sky was the only thing that was dark; almost every single house in town had its lights blazing into the night.

And now that the wind wasn't rushing past his ears he could hear the citizens of Amity Park moving through the streets below him, calling out to each other and into the dark, calling his own name.

"I must have been missing longer than I thought," he whispered to himself, shocked at the amount of people who had taken to the streets to look for him. It seemed like every sidewalk in town had at least one adult, or an adult paired with a teenager, armed with a flashlight and shouting at the top of their lungs.

He dropped quietly into the alley behind his house to make the change back into dark haired, blue eyed Danny before emerging into the lamplight.

"Danny!" amid the numerous voices shouting his name there was one that he recognized immediately, prompting him to choose a direction and run, "Danny, where are you?!" He wasn't sure if he should be worried or elated at the urgency in her voice, some part of him always soothed by the fact that even if she wanted to dissect his ghost half, his human half was welcomed with open arms.

"Mom!" he called, skidding around a corner to see her leaning off of the sidewalk, one hand curled around a lamppost as if it were the only thing keeping her from toppling forward. She turned at the sound of his voice and hauled herself back to the fully vertical world. Her eyes seemed to pass over him for a moment and he slowed, thinking that he had seen that kind of vacant stare fairly recently.

The gaze of the woman in teal spandex finally landed on him, short red hair bobbing slightly at the halt in motion, "Oh, hello, sweetie!" Danny found himself coming to a complete stop, his body jarred from forward thought by the lack of recognition in her voice, even though he had heard that very phrase a million times before.

He was still trying to remember how to work his jaw when she continued, "Are you lost? Did you want me to help you find your parents? I'm looking for my son, Danny, too; if you want we can look for them together." The smile she offered him was no doubt meant to be reassuring, the light hand she placed on his shoulder similarly so, but it only sent cold shivers down his back. Did she really not recognize him?

"Mom," he finally found his voice, unfamiliar with how pleading it came out, or with how impossibly wide his pale blue eyes had gone, "It's me, it's Da-"

"Maddie!" someone called from across the street, their voice sounding the slightest bit hopeful, "Has there been any news? Has anyone found him yet?"

And just like that, her attention slid away from him, the only thing still connecting them the touch of her fingers on his shirt. After a response that he didn't care to pay attention to(didn't want to know, he was right _here_), she had somehow, miraculously, remembered that her hand was on the slightly shaking shoulder of some poor boy that seemed as lost as her own son was likely to be.

"Oh, you do remind me of my Danny," she spoke softly, leaning down to pull him into a brief hug, "I hope you find your parents soon." The warmth that the gesture should have given him was drown by the chilling knowledge that it wasn't meant for him, specifically, but for some stranger that he wasn't supposed to be.

Without another word she was gone, vanishing down the street with an urgency he didn't understand, having apparently even forgotten about the offer to search for their missing persons together.

Danny failed to suppress another shiver as he tried to process what just happened, "…Mom?"

_**DP**_

Madeline Fenton continued her run across town, voice straining as a few unrelieved hours of yelling her son's name into the shadows began to take its toll. Her thoughts were scattered, half trying to focus on finding her baby boy, half tugging back to the boy she had left standing in the lamplight. Lilac eyes began to mist as she thought of the lost expression on his face.

It was funny though, she could remember the expression, but she couldn't remember the details. Were his eyes brown or blue? Was his hair blond? What was he wearing? The more she pondered the boy, the less certain she was of how he looked.

For a moment she wondered if she could have seen a ghost. But that was illogical, she concluded. She recalled hugging the boy; her fingers had felt warmth underneath cotton fabric, the steady thrum of a heartbeat as her arms wrapped around him. There was no way the child(was it a boy or a girl now?) had been dead.

And yet, she had the feeling that she was forgetting something important, something _very_ important. What had she been doing on that street corner? Had she met someone there?

All thoughts of any kind of child had escaped her, but the image of wide eyes and an impossible sense of loss kept at her heels as she ran. Her desperation had become so much more potent.

_**DP**_

As frantic footsteps made their way past, something stirred. Hmmm, except it wasn't so much a something as it was the absence of something. The gaping emptiness that appeared when something that should be became something that was not. As this sensation pondered its existence, it became aware of a hunger, with two-no, three, powerful sources of sustenance lingering nearby. It debated, finding that one was hidden from him, one was on the move, and the last was only beginning to realize its fate.

The sensation of what was not(absent? _gone_) paused; deciding to wait and see which source would prove the most fruitful.

_**DP**_

Jack wasn't sure which he found more entertaining, the giant man clad in nothing but a large orange jumpsuit, or the string of expletives that was currently streaming from his mouth. 'Great galloping glods of ghost goop?' Who came up with that? He was tempted to wonder if it was part of some new slang he had missed before he remembered that, as out of the loop as he might be, the man standing before him was probably more outdated on slang than the few years the Winter Spirit had most recently missed.

He supposed he should be angrier at the man for shooting at him, but how could he possibly stay mad at someone who looked so amusing? It was too much fun(not that there was any such thing) to watch him rant.

"You better not have anything to do with that ghost kid, punk!" the man before him shouted, shouldering a silver and green weapon(was that a bazooka? Where was he keeping that?) to prepare firing a second time, "Or I'll tear ya both apart, molecule by molecule! Now where's my son!"

Jack Frost was many things, but intimated by an overweight man in orange shouting about ghosts? This he was not. What he _was_ was interested in how this grown man could apparently see him, despite how unimpressed by Frost's flying he had been. In fact, the Winter Spirit thought with suspicion, it seemed to be specifically the fact he was flying that had caused the man to attack him. Well, Jack thought the man was attacking him; he would have to have really bad aim if he was actually trying to hit the now grounded spirit.

Despite the absurdity of the situation(or perhaps because of it) Jack Frost wanted to make certain that it was indeed himself that the orange jumpsuit was yelling at, so he called down from his quite comfortably safe position on a low hanging rooftop, "Uh, are you talking to me? Do you know who I am?"

The man in front of him looked confused for a second, "Who else would I be talking to, ghost punk? Does it matter who you are?" His weapon didn't lower in the slightest, but the questions did make him pause in firing it again.

"Just checking," Jack offered back, twirling his staff between his fingers for a moment before latching onto another question, "Why did you call me a 'ghost punk'?" His blue eyes glittered in more amusement as he watched the orange jumpsuit lower his bazooka thoughtfully.

"You're a ghost, aren't ya? With all the flying and the white hair," the man responded, "And all ghosts are punks!" He puffed out his chest, hefting his somewhat oversized weapon once more, "And I, Jack Fenton, will hunt every last one of you punks down if it's the last thing I do!"

Another Jack? Frost rolled his eyes and muttered, "Well, this won't get confusing…"

"What was that?!" the man below him bellowed, charging his weapon and taking aim.

For some reason Jack Frost wasn't too worried about the green glow surging in his direction, not even bothering to dodge as the beam of energy swung wide to his left. Instead he raised his voice to ask another question, "Hey, you asked about your son before, is he the 'Danny' everyone around town has been yelling for?"

He had tried asking the people he came across questions, but for a town that apparently believed in ghosts, he hadn't found many people who had been able to see him. Probably due to the fact that most of the people currently roaming the streets were adults and older teens. Even the windows he had tapped on went unanswered.

"Do you know where Danny is?" the man shot back, the tone of his voice losing most of the challenge and arrogance that it had been practically dripping since their conversation started, "The whole town came back from the Ghost Zone, but Danny's still missing…"

This was more like the response Jack Frost had been getting from the rest of the town; the quiet sort of resignation that came with asking a question you already knew the answer to, but just didn't want to accept. It wasn't a happy conclusion he had come to, but it was one he couldn't deny as adamantly as the townspeople did. He filed the comment about the town coming back from some sort of Ghost Zone for a less volatile information source.

"How long has he been missing?" the Winter Spirit inquired, "What does he look like? Maybe I can help you-" He wasn't prepared for the sudden increase in accuracy as the man in orange fired again, all of his vigor returning tenfold.

The green goop nailed him in the chest right at the moment the larger Jack hollered, "You won't fool Jack Fenton with your lies! NOW TELL ME WHERE MY BOY IS!"

"Woah," Jack the smaller recoiled, letting the momentum of the blast carry him over the apex of the roof and out of sight. With a small flip he landed on the opposite edge of the shingles, one foot sliding into the gutter when he paused to freeze the radioactive-looking sludge off of his chest before launching himself into the sky.

When the Wind had carried him high enough he judged he was out of range of the strange weapon, Jack Frost paused to look down. That didn't go quite as well as he had hoped.

Mr. Jack Fenton was circling the house below, no doubt trying to see if he had finished the 'ghost punk' off. A sigh of relief tugged at the Winter Spirit's shoulders when the man below finally gave up and trudged in another direction.

All of this worry over a missing child was making Jack nervous, especially the reaction of the supposed father of the child. His mind unwillingly began to turn towards thoughts of another night likely spent in restless mourning, a night of which he had been blissfully unaware for a long time now. This town hadn't quite reached the mourning stage, but there was a solemn feel of despair to the air, even(especially) from those who called out the name "Danny" with a reckless sort of hope.

He thought back to the other Jack now far below him. Even he seemed to be clinging onto something he didn't quite believe was there. Just what had happened to this town?

_****AN:**_

_Not sure if I'm balancing the serious with the more light-hearted parts well… That scene between Danny and Maddie has been in my head since I came up with the idea for this fic and I've been just itching to write it, but I was trying to procrastinate an upcoming scene that includes a lot of information dumping, which led to the Jacks meeting, which pretty much wrote itself. But it might have led to emotional whiplash… So, yeah…_

_Thank you for all the reviews! This makes me happy! And keeps me motivated to attempt to keep to the update schedule I had mentioned! :'D_

_I probably won't answer all reviews personally depending on if they continue to increase per chapter, but I'll try to at least address any questions!_

_GWoB – All will be explained in time(mwahaha). In regards to his outfit, it will probably stay the same, if only because I see no plausible way to change it and I kind of find the classic hazmat endearing in a dorky sort of way XD But thank you so much for the reviews! They mean a lot! 3_

_Lazy Forever – This will also be explained, but I don't want to give anything away for now…_

_ST – Thank you!_

_Moonshadow – More that will all be explained~(I'm trying hard to cover all loose ends, I even have a timeline all scripted out right now) Thanks!_


	5. Haunting Discoveries

_You have no idea the Love-Hate relationship I have with this chapter right now. No. Idea._

Ch. 3

Quiet sniffling broke the silence of one of the few darkened windows in the town of Amity Park. The silence that had timidly wrapped itself around the room had been broken by only one other sound, and that had been a quiet tapping at the window; the source of the sniffling had looked up eagerly only to find the view empty of any flying or floating beings. Her sorrow had only weighed down the heavier after this brief bout of hope.

Mascara had been ruined by leaking teal eyes, wavy brown hair a tangled mess from a mad dash through the city, long-sleeved shirt and jeans rumpled from huddling in the corner of a very(almost too) spacious bedroom.

Had the room been lit by daylight it would have been a blinding array of pink and fluff and gushing cuteness enough to make any unicorn(or ghost-boy) obsessed teenager faint from happiness. In the shadows of the night, the only contentment Paulina could find in her bedroom was a small, very squish-able plush of the cause of her tears. She glared down at the black and white(and green, bright shining green) stuffed toy for a moment, tempted to throw it across the room in denial of the unfairness(to whom?) she(to her?) had suffered through only an hour before.

_"Danny!" she sang through the streets, streets that were no longer covered in the pale green glow of a ghost shield, streets that were underneath a very earthly starry night sky, "Come on out!" 'And sweep your rescued princess off her feet and into her new castle,' was finished inside her head. Why and how her Ghost Boy had restored the town was beyond the point at which her thoughts had stopped. The fact that he had left to rescue the town and the town had been rescued was as far as she felt she needed to delve. _

_ The reason the adults were roaming the streets also calling his name? Irrelevant, especially since most of them hated him. It only meant that he would come to her first, she had only been his prettiest steadfast supporter since the first time he saved her. She was even there to see him off when he left to fight the other(unimportant) ghosts, it was she(and her friends) who he had shouted his name to before he left. She didn't stop to wonder how the grown-ups had learned his name(they had been unconscious, hadn't they?), or how he had obtained the suit(it had been in the anti-ghost basement of the Fentons, right?), or even what it did(though it did look good on him, didn't it~?)._

_There was a lot she didn't think about, but that didn't mean it didn't cross her mind every once in a while. Contrary to popular(and she was) belief, she did think, she just didn't think about the things that were unimportant. Like the possible questions that had been listed above(on second thought, that last listed parenthesis was on her list of important things) . The Ghost Boy had to look good, it was only expected._

_She was so lost in non-thought that she had almost skipped past the blue glow that had taken root in an alleyway, skidding lightly to a stop and peering around the wall to find the reason for the ghostly light. Various shapes and sizes of cardboard cubes were floating around the alley, a man adorned in overalls and a beanie hovering just around the center of the spectacle._

_For all that the Box Ghost seemed to be in his element, it was weird to see him just hanging there; no cackling, no gloating, no 'BEWARE' being shouted at her even though he was facing in her direction and could clearly not be not noticing the she that was Paulina._

_Confusion made her crinkle her nose before she realized that she had an opportunity to find out where her precious Ghost Bo-Danny, where her Danny Phantom went._

"_Hey, you're a ghost, right," she pointed out, whether the statement was needless was beyond her caring, "Do you know where my Ghost Boy is? He saved the town but he hasn't come to sweep me off my feet yet!"_

_She pouted when the ghost barely acknowledged her, only looking up to stare and cock his head to the side. Her foot began tapping impatiently as she waited for a reply._

"_What do you want, oh idol of popular teenagerdom?" he finally responded. His voice still carried the usual echoing quality of ghosts, still crescendoed in the overdramatic(over-irritating) manner he had of speaking, but it was largely subdued, as if he were only trying to keep up appearances. He didn't even wave his arms in the air(useless as the gesture normally was)._

"_Where's Danny," she asked again, this time crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one hip, her voice rising in its own stubborn crescendo of slighted teen._

"_The annoying boy who is constantly entrapping me within his cylindrical container of limited space?" the Box Ghost clarified, this time at least moving his hands to imitate holding something like a soup thermos. A deep sigh made him deflate, "Alas, I do not know! No one does! The e-vile reign of the Ghost King was ended by the foolish boy and his giant mechanical body-shaped container, but a short time after that he disappeared! Vanished while unconscious according to Plasmius! We all thought he had vanquished himself to defeat his foe, so we left." The end of his statement was punctuated with a shrug; a failed attempt to show his indifference on the matter._

_Paulina gaped, frozen in a wide-eyed stare of disbelief for a few moments before she gained enough control of herself to squeak, "You're lying!"_

_How dare he lie to her? How dare he lie about her Phantom like that? Didn't he know who she was, who her Ghost Boy was? It wasn't possible! Her Phantom was supposed to come and carry her away and be her hero! Not, not, whatever this stupid ghost in front of her was saying!_

_Her lower lip began to tremble and her sight began to blur, her body moving on instinct to get her as far away from the lie-filled alley as possible, not caring to see the ghost's response to her outburst. It wasn't long before she rounded a corner to crash into a mountain range of orange and teal, sending her to the ground as the heads of the group behind the matching spandex all turned in her direction._

_Multiple voices began to ask if she was alright as the large orange man hauled her back to her feet. She reached a hand to her head and bit her lip, trying to hold back her temper before tossing it all to the wind and shouting, "That stupid ghost said Danny was gone! He can't be gone! He's not!"_

She had run away then, run all the way home and up the stairs and to her room and there she had stayed while the rest of the town continued their search. Their (as of yet) fruitless search. Her hands tightened on the plush toy, the urge to fling it fading, being replaced with the urge to wrap her arms around it instead.

Someone was yelling outside her window now, but who it was and why they were yelling didn't really matter to her. She just wanted to fall asleep and dream that this was only a nightmare she had yet to wake up from.

_**DP**_

"Mr. Lancer!" he all but screamed, waving an arm at his teacher standing only three feet away and busy gazing blankly in his direction, "Old man!" That got a reaction. Not a good one, but desperate times…

"Willows in Winter, boy! You don't just insult someone you've just met," the man chastised, eyes finally focusing on Danny while his fist shook in the air half-heartedly. Two of the teacher's rather long strides had him scowling down at his(unrecognized) student, hands on hips while he pondered if he could sentence a boy who didn't go to his school to detention anyways.

"But we haven't just met," Danny said, twining the fingers of both hands into his hair, "I'm your least favourite student, the biggest slacker in your class; you gave me detention three times last week!"

"Oh really," the overweight man mused, sounding halfway between condescending and some sort of tempted. Maybe he could give the lad detention after all.

Danny wasn't sure if he liked the second part of that halfway, but he would take what he could get at this point, "Yes! It's me! It's D-" And once again, he didn't make it past the first syllable of his name before he was interrupted. The hands he had tangled in his hair were barely resisting yanking out huge clumps of the black locks to vent his frustration.

"I don't really care who you are," Mr. Lancer forcefully cut in, holding his own hands up as if to ward against what Danny had been trying to say, "And I don't really care if I can give you detention or not. I…"

It was at this point that the teacher had closed his eyes, and as per the norm that Danny was now getting used to, as soon as his eyes were off Danny he forgot who he was talking to. Not that he had known who he was talking to in the first place.

Shaking his head, Danny sighed, scooting out of the man's line of sight so that when he opened his eyes he wouldn't be reminded of the wrath he was about to unleash.

No matter who Danny had tried to talk to the result had been the same. He even had to work to get their attention sometimes, and although holding a civil conversation with Dash without him trying to shove Danny into a locker was kind of nice, it was also very, very weird. And even that couldn't break free of the oppressive atmosphere that had enveloped his town.

Every person he talked to had an air of sadness about them, a depressed state, to the point where even getting them angry didn't have much of an affect. Lancer had sounded more tired than anything else.

But it all came down to the reason they were combing the streets, he knew, having taken advantage of his incognito state to try asking a few people who it was they were looking for. The answers he had gotten were vague, but they referenced him, and they couldn't say his name(apparently _he_ wasn't allowed to say _his own_ name) without a strange sort of emotion that almost looked like twisted hope crossing over their faces.

His temper had reached the end of its rope and he forced his hands to his sides before they succeeded in pulling out any of his hair.

A deep breath calmed him for only a moment before it was released with an uncontrolled cry, "Why does everybody act like I'm dead?!"

The words had no sooner left his lips than he vanished, there one second, gone the same instance everyone within range had paused to look in his direction. Thinking it must have been their imaginations, they all turned as one; back to whatever it was they had been doing before the strange thought echoed in their heads.

_**DP**_

Something definitely wasn't making sense here, Jack concluded, softly landing on another rooftop. He stopped and leaned against the chimney, his staff resting in the crook of his arm.

For one, the Guardians had only become aware of the town vanishing about an hour ago(half of that hour was spent information gathering from the already returned town), but, from the snippets of conversation he was able to catch, it appeared as if the town had returned three or four hours ago. The Globe was supposed to record things as they happened, not hours afterwards. Maybe North's snow globes accidentally traversed time as well as distance? He'd have to ask.

For two, not a single person(outside of orange jumpsuit man) was able to see him. Grown ups, teenagers; sure there hadn't been any kids out on the streets yet, but not one of them was even reacting to his frost on their windows. The town could believe in ghosts but it couldn't believe in the Guardians? Or maybe it was just Jack, he was a newer Guardian; it was possible this town hadn't gotten wind of him yet.

But that led to number three: for a town that was purportedly infested with ghosts, Jack had yet to see a single spook. Every person he had seen had been zapped of almost all energy and spiraling into some sort of depression, but none of them seemed scared, or screaming, or suspicious at all. Overall, it was almost familiar.

Over all of that, it was almost too bizarre.

He stepped away from the chimney, pocketing his hands and lazily drifting to the edge of the shingled housetop. The Wind was just lifting to carry him to the next roof over when he heard another voice, softer, fiercer, but calling the same name he'd heard for the past half an hour.

"Psst," he could see her now, poking her head into an alleyway, "Danny?" Violet eyes scoured the shadows of the alley before retreating and running along the pavement to the next dark passageway, where the call was repeated. Jack raised a dark brow in surprise, crouching on the edge of the rooftop to follow her movement.

"Danny!" her voice was definitely missing the dejected sorrow that he'd heard from everyone else.

Taking the chance(if she couldn't see him it wouldn't matter anyways), Jack leapt down from the roof. His feet made the barest of noises as he set down, yet it was enough to make the girl spin on her heels and drop into a crouch to face him. He was actually surprised she could be so fast in combat boots; it was as unusual as the combination of said boots with a dark plaid skirt and black tank top; though he couldn't figure out if her favourite color was the gothic black that overtook her outfit, or the purple that accented it.

Her eyes glowered at him from above similarly tinted violet lips drawn into a thin line, the expression lasting only a second before the matching facial features flew wide and she flung herself towards him, "Danny?!"

As quickly as she had sprung into action she jerked to a halt, Jack himself hop-skipping back until he hit a streetlamp that jarred him to a stop. She looked him over again, from his snow white hair to his frost coated outfit, to his own icy blue gaze. Jack, deciding it was a better reaction than shooting at him, stayed frozen where he was, until the girl came to a decision and straightened.

"You're not Danny," she finally said, crossing her arms over her chest and throwing her weight to her heels. It was hard to tell if she was angry or disappointed by this statement.

"No, I'm not," Jack nodded, shifting himself to a more comfortable standing position while letting his exasperation leak out, "I can't even find out who the guy is. I don't suppose you would tell me." He flung an arm in her general direction with his last remark and was surprised to see her drop to the ground. Watching the action replay in his mind, he realized that she had been trying to duck what could have been implied as the beginning of an attack.

"Woah, woah," he held his hands up in surrender as he watched her warily rise to a crouch, "I'm not here to attack anyone, okay? I just want information!" What was with this town and violent reactions?

She gave him another fierce glare and he cringed, trying to make himself appear as unthreatening as possible. It seemed to work, her attention falling away from him completely and into the action of dusting off her skirt, each jerk of the fabric sending little clouds of dirt into the air.

"Well, forgive me if I'm not exactly trusting of someone who sneaks up on me right after my town has been attacked and abducted," she snapped, finally launching her gaze in his direction again before muttering in a key he thought was meant to be too low for him to hear, "A lousy attempt to impersonate my best friend doesn't help, either."

Jack shook his head, one hand lowering to grip his staff while the other ruffled his white locks, "Look, I don't know what happened here; in fact, that's just the thing I came to find out. But I'm sorry if I startled you…"

"It's fine," she interrupted him, waving the apology off with irritation before looking at him curiously, "You really don't know what happened here?" Seeing Jack shake his head once more she sighed before launching into a general explanation, no more than the media had likely released to the public, "Some crazy ghost had escaped his imprisonment in the Ghost Zone and tried to pick up where he left off in conquering the world-the Zone, I mean. Somehow one of his lackeys managed to make his way here and ended up dragging our entire city, buildings and all, into the Ghost Zone for his master."

Jack listened to her with wide eyes, stemming the tide of questions that leapt into his mouth as she spoke. This wasn't the first time tonight someone had mentioned ghosts(though it was the first time without being physically attacked) But a Ghost Zone? How did they- he mentally shrugged, his thoughts stalling the moment they formed in favour of listening to the story.

"We had a suit that someone could use to fight ghosts and one of my friends took it to try and defeat the guy and get us back. We're assuming, since we _are_ back in the real world again, that he succeeded…" she bit her lip and her eyes strayed sideways at this, unmistakable worry crossing through her features, though it vanished before fear could set in. A determined frown took over instead, her gaze sliding once more to him, "Now can I ask you a question?"

Despite the fact he had more questions than answers from her small recollection, Jack recognized the current pattern of conversation and tilted his head to the side, "Uh, sure."

"Who are you?"

He blinked, not really expecting the blunt phrase she had given him. Usually, if kids were able to see him that meant that not only did they believe in him, but they knew who he was. After all, it was hard to believe in someone you didn't know existed, even if the possibility they did was right in front of your nose.

"I'm Jack, Jack Frost," he tried to give her an easy-going smile and not act as if he were stating the obvious, "Bringer of snow days, sledding adventures, and snow ball fights to children across the land." That last part may have been a bit much, but he had to have fun with this, right?

The girl in front of him opted for staring at Jack strangely, opening her mouth to reply, "I'm-"

"Sam!" a voice called from the other end of the street, the speaker running in their direction until he could stop next to the girl, his hands finding his knees in order to lean over and pant. His dark skin was covered in sweat and the red beret on his head was sliding out of place by the time he had recovered enough to stand up straight. Teal eyes managed to meet violet and his face stretched in a grimace while he adjusted both his hat and the thick framed glasses that rested on his nose.

"Tucker?" Sam had frowned while he rested, "What are you doing here, we were supposed to meet in front of the Nasty Burger in-"

"Fifteen minutes ago!" the boy, Tucker, shouted, waving an electronic device in the air, "I got worried and came to track you down. So did you find him?!"

A frustrated snarl slipped between her teeth, making the other boy back off. Jack had attempted to take an unconscious step backwards before remembering he was standing in front of a light pole and had no place backwards to go. The resulting echo of his staff clanging against the base had both of their heads swiveling in his direction.

Sam rolled her eyes, "But I did find him."

"Jack Frost," he said, offering a subdued smile and a small wave. He wasn't going to get off on the wrong foot with anyone else in this city. Two(three) was enough.

He wasn't prepared for the blank expression that took over Tucker's face and the empty stare that settled in his direction when the boy asked, "Who?"

Jack nearly slapped himself in the forehead; of course the only person he could possibly meet without inadvertently offending would be the one person who couldn't actually see him. This town was getting weirder and more frustrating to wrap his mind around by the second. He almost wished there was another Guardian here to help him out, but then he caught himself; knowing his current run of luck that Guardian would turn out to be the annoying(not so much anymore) Easter Kangaroo.

In the meantime Sam was trying to convince Tucker that the Winter Spirit was real, "He's standing right there! Don't you at least see his shadow?"

"There's nobody there, Sam!" Tucker paused to look at her sideways, "Are you sure you're not going crazy?"

"I'm not crazy!" she screeched, fisting her hands at her sides and scowling at Tucker for all she was worth.

The techno-geek flinched and hid under his arms at her outburst, knowing he'd gone too far when one of her eyes started to twitch, "Okay, okay, you're not crazy! But how is there a ghost that you can see but I can't?"

Jack frowned, finally interjecting into the argument for his own sake; he wasn't a ghost, "That's because I'm a-"

"That's because he's a Guardian, mate," an oh-too-familiar Aussie voice said from the shadows opposite to him. Bunnymund slid forward, idly twirling one of his boomerangs as he smirked at Jack, "Ya need ta believe in 'im ta see 'im."

_**DP**_

There was yet another bothersome buzz trying to hum around the tick-tock of his Tower, but he ignored the irrelevant ramblings of yet another come to dissuade his purpose, smiling as he felt the time come for a more important task.

"Please, show yourself out," his voice rumbled, the quiet tones somehow overpowering those of his barely acknowledged audience, "I do believe my charge is getting restless."

_**AN:_

_Dialogue is not my friend…_

_Yeehee~ There was supposed to be a whole 'nother half to the third section of this chapter(plus a different fourth and a fifth), but due to length I decided to split the chapter in two. I kind of want to keep them a little consistent in that respect… But this means half of the next chapter is already written again._

_Sorry for how long it took, but, as mentioned above, this chapter and I had some interesting words before I was satisfied with it… But needing a break from it brought you all cover art of a sorts(I envy those who are able to color in PS with a mouse, yelk) so, yay? If it hasn't been apparent, the main focus of the story so far has been Danny, but don't worry, Jack will get his time to take over the spotlight. We just haven't gotten to that part yet._

_Thank you for the reviews again, it makes me excited that people are eager to read this! w But it also makes me want to make sure it's as exciting as you all expect it to be which makes me more perfectionist about anything before I post it(by the time I do end up posting a chapter I've reread it enough times to recite from memory - ) Which means updates may take longer than I originally planned…_

_But not to worry! I now have a roommate to physically pester me to write more and I am very reluctant to let go of this story, so it will be finished! 'D_


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